Farmer
"Burn the cities, but leave the farms, and the cities will grow from the ashes. But burn the farms, and grass will grow through the cobbles on every city street." Basic (New) The old feudal order of the Empire is no longer what it once was, and a new enterprising class is bridging the gap between peasant and noble. In cities, burghers have begun to appear. Their equivalent in the countryside is an emerging class of landed gentry. Land is often parcelled out to commoners as a reward for military service, or merchants invest their wealth by purchasing the estates of impoverished nobles. Rarely, tenant peasants save enough to buy the fields they till from their lord. Land is inherited, but no farmer’s claim yet spans more than a couple of generations. A farmer employs many hands to work the land, but he toils as hard as any peasant, for the wealth that hard work brings provides a significant social standing in the rural community. Main Profile Secondary Profile Skills: Animal Care, Charm Animal, Drive, Evaluate, Haggle, Intimidate or Charm, Ride, Set Trap, Trade (Farmer) Talents: Dealmaker, Hardy, Specialist Weapon (Scythe or Flail). Trappings: Cart pulled by a horse or ox, scythe (two-handed weapon) or threshing flail (flail), sheep dog. Career Entries Innkeeper, Merchant, Peasant, Tradesman, Veteran Career Exits Innkeeper, Merchant, Militiaman, Politician, Steward Farmers’ Rituals The spring festival of Mitterfruhl heralds the beginning of the farming year, when firstborn livestock are slaughtered at Taal’s altar, and the plough is blessed by a priestess of Rhya before it tills the fields. Throughout spring and summer, farmers work all hours, tending their beasts and maintaining their crops. Sheep are sheared during the month of Sommerzeit, and the wool sold at market, the swiftest team of shearers hanging their finest fleece in the local shrine of Taal. High summer is celebrated with rites to ensure perfect weather – too much or too little rain over the ensuing months can ruin the crops. With Rhya’s blessing, the yield is ready for harvest by summer’s end. Labourers scythe the crops, their wives tying the stalks into sheaves, and to encourage a quick harvest before the autumn rains, the reaping teams compete for prizes of beer. Reapers are unwilling to cut the last sheaf of a crop, believed to harbour the spirit of Rhya, and lots are drawn to determine the cutter, who is subsequently dunked in a nearby river. The last sheaf is crafted into a corn dolly, and kept in the farmhouse kitchen over winter as a luck charm. The autumn equinox, Mittherbst, is a solemn occasion involving the sacrifice of crops and animals to sustain Taal and Rhya during their winter’s sleep and to placate the awakening Ulric. Entire herds and flocks are passed between great bonfires to purify them of the taint of Chaos. The autumn fairs are the highlight of the farming year, when fat profits can be made, though lean years can ruin an unlucky farmer. Winter is a time of hardship for all countryfolk. The winter festival of Mondstille is a rare time of joy when beacons are lit to guide Taal and Rhya back to earth so that the cycle of life may begin anew. The Raid “I promised da on his death bed that the farm would be safe with me. I’m sorry, da. I’d been away for several days, taking the old bull to market in Grenzstadt. I first saw the smoke as I rounded Copse Corner. The farmhouse was ablaze, and I could hear screams. Cattle lay slaughtered all ’round the ruined bodies of the farmhands. Wolves the size o’ ponies snarled among them, each mounted by a green-skinned devil. Taal forgive me. I hid in a dung heap and listened to the laughter o’ the raiders as all that I loved burned. By sundown they had moved on. I emerged, stinking, surrounded by the ashes of my life. By midnight I had laid to rest the charred remains of my wife and sons. My daughter was nowhere to be found. My workers and servants I buried too. The plough leaned against the farmyard wall. I took the ploughshare and entered the forge in the corner of the yard, the only building untouched by fire. I took up a hammer and began to beat the metal into the form of a sword. With each blow the path of my new life became clearer.” –The memoirs of Lanric Bessen, Goblin-Hunter